


What's in a Name?

by OccasionalAvenger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And Happy?, F/M, Someone give them a hug, romanogers - Freeform, this made me sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7117906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalAvenger/pseuds/OccasionalAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romanov. Natasha. Nat. Natalia. It doesn't matter what he calls her (or so she says).</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a Name?

When they first meet, he calls her Romanov. That’s fine. Everyone at SHIELD goes by surnames. Morse. Drew. Walters. O’Grady. It’s impersonal, detached, formal. Just they way she likes it. That’s why she calls him Rogers. She needs that distance, and not just because of work. 

Romanov. Rogers. 

She’s assigned to help with his training. Countless hours spent slamming each other into sweaty blue mats. She does most of the slamming at first. He improves quickly, though, once he stops underestimating her. He’s a good learner—she expected that. Somewhere in all this she becomes Natasha. Her first name sounds alien falling from his lips; there are exactly two other people in the world that call her by that name: Fury and Clint. But she doesn’t bother to correct him. She does, however, make a change of her own. He’s not Rogers anymore, he’s Steve.

Natasha. Steve.

Natasha is a long name to use in the field. Three syllables waste breath, so it makes sense when he shouts into comms, “Nat! I need you on deck four.” The crunch of bones breaking in the background doesn’t concern her nearly as much as the ease with which he said the nickname. She assures herself that he only said it to save breath for fighting, and that works until he interprets her lack of comment for acquiescence, and nearly stops calling her “Natasha” altogether.

What scares her is that she doesn’t mind. Sometimes she catches affection in his voice when he says it. She minds even less, then. The best course of action, she decides, is to not acknowledge the change at all. 

Romanov, Natasha, Nat. 

It doesn’t change anything between them. 

When they’re in public, they’re Captain America and Black Widow. For him, she knows, Captain America feels like a different entity, a separate man from himself. She’s different that way. Maybe it’s because she’s worn the mantle of the Black Widow for over seventy years, maybe it’s because it fits so well. She has a hard time separating herself from the persona sometimes. Maybe, a small voice whispers, it’s not a persona anymore. 

Black Widow. Captain America.

She lets him visit her bare-bones apartment a few times, sure he doesn't realize the magnitude of it all. It takes longer than she expected for them to end up in her bed. How did we get here so fast, she wonders one night, listening to his heartbeat beneath her cheek, knowing, even as she thinks the words, that this hadn’t been fast at all. She had never moved so slowly in a relationship before. She would find a man, pant with him in bed a few times, and move on. Yet here she is, feeling him breathe and move while she tries to stop her hands from trembling. Pathetic. 

“My name is Natalia,” she says, and it’s like spitting out a mouthful of poison. She’s tried so hard over the last decade to strip herself of everything associated with that name, given to her by a mother she’d never known. Natalia is the murderer, not Natasha. Natalia is the liar, the weapon. Natasha is not. She chants it to herself like a mantra.

“Do you want me to call you that?” He sounds a bit surprised at her admittance. Maybe he really hasn’t read her file. 

She shifts, skin crawling. “If you want. I haven’t been called that in a long time.” Not since more than a decade ago, when Clint Barton knelt in front of her on the floor, speaking with kindness she knew she didn’t deserve. 

“It’ll be okay, Natalia. I promise. There are good people here—they’re gonna help you.”

She’d looked into gray eyes that seemed older than the face that housed them. Thought about her old life, which already felt foreign. “My name,” she’d said, “is Natasha.”

She blinks and Clint’s gray eyes fade, replaced with Steve’s bright blue ones. They are guileless, kind. This man hadn’t fallen in love with Natalia Romanova. That isn’t who she is anymore. That shell of a woman is gone. 

“Stick with Nat,” she says, and means it.

**Author's Note:**

> Those names of SHIELD agents are references--see if you can catch 'em! Comments are appreciated.


End file.
